"Worked right along in our sleep--like Old Browny," answered
Jack.

The last day before reaching Yankton was hot and sultry. The
best place we could find to camp that night was beside a deserted
sod house on the prairie. There was a well and a tumble-down sod
stable. There were dark bands of clouds low down on the
southeastern horizon, and faint flashes 'of lightning.

"It's going to rain before morning," I said. "Wonder if it
wouldn't be better in the sod house?"

We examined it, but found it in poor condition, so decided
not to give up the wagon. "The man that lived there pulled too
many radishes and parsnips and carrots and such things into it,
and then neglected to hoe his roof and fill up the holes," said
Jack. "Besides, Old Blacky will have it rubbed down before
morning. 'When I sleep in anything that Old Blacky can get at, I
want it to be on wheels so it can roll out of the way."

We went to bed as usual, but at about one o'clock we were
awakened by a long rolling peal of thunder. Already big drops of
rain were beginning to fall. Ollie and I looked out, and found
Jack creeping from under the wagon.

"That's a dry-weather bedroom of mine," he observed, "and I
think I'll come up-stairs."

The flashes of lightning followed each other rapidly, and by
them we could see the horses. Old Browny was sleeping and Old